Sand and Pearls

the celts knew how to celebrate these things.

swaying, every tendon stretched to the snapping point

pulling at each other in a great demonic circle,

bare feet blue, trampling the snow, shrieking

as if to curdle the slate-grey skies.

….

while some fell where they stood

others crawled off to caves coupling like animals, moaning

tearing at each other’s flesh

great hot heaving acts in the firelit snow

this was a spectacle to which our puny festivities cannot compare.

….

but let me tell you this.

were I that bony goddess in my dreams hair matted with filth

embroidered velvet gown charred torn eyes wild,

pummelled by the lusts of an entire nation:  I would exercise my right

over all objections to choose you incessantly year after year,

by whatever form you came to me, hare, hound or hart.

my scream of choosing would rend the earth and be remembered

through the lore of centuries.

….

I choose you now and my choice rings with no less conviction

for its silence.  defenceless, cradled in your arms

your love murmurs to me in my sleep.